Not every physician gets patted down daily in his own hospital. The security guard ran his fingers over my picture ID to ensure authenticity.

“Sir, you are clear to enter.”

As I walked the long tunnel connecting the outside world to the prison hospital, I couldn't prevent mixed feelings, but there was no time to explore them. At the end of the tunnel, I was buzzed in through a second hefty barred door. It opened into a circular enclosure housing the “command center,” manned by a uniformed guard. Seven doors defined the perimeter, with each door definitively shut. I stood in a short line in front of the stairway door to the ICU, waiting my turn.